


White Picket Fence

by smolandfeisty



Category: Worm - Wildbow
Genre: Alternate Timelines, One Shot, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 06:19:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12006858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolandfeisty/pseuds/smolandfeisty
Summary: Calvert's always played his cards close to his vest. Why would he treat his timelines any differently?





	White Picket Fence

**Author's Note:**

> Occurs in the same timeframe as Arc 16.13.

Thomas Calvert bolted up in bed, drenched in a cold sweat.  
  
"Tom? His wife murmured, voice bleary with sleep. "Tom, what's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing, dear," Calvert replied, his voice hoarse. He staggered to his feet and then out the door, shuffling into a pair of slippers on his way. "Just need a glass of water."  
  
"Just don't wake the children."  
  
The father of two slumped down at his kitchen table, head in both his hands, head whirling in shock. Coil was dead. Two possible timelines besides this one, besides his  _own_ , constantly in use for maximum security, and yet Coil was dead in both. The circumstances indicated thorough and resounding checkmate against him.  
  
What now? He had the resources to make Coil a reality in this timeline, money squirreled away from his days as a consultant and connections from his military background. He had the knowhow and the benefit of hindsight now as well.  
  
It would be a trivial matter to kidnap Dinah; even easier to play the Undersiders like fiddles the second time around. His criminal empire could take advantage of the information he held over the other villains, the Protectorate. He saw Brockton Bay, in the palm of his hand, within a matter of weeks.  
  
His gaze turned towards the living room, adjacent to their kitchen so that Emily could look over the youngsters while they played. A veritable mountain of toys was piled high in each corner of the room, a consequence of leaving the children to clean up after themselves.  
  
If he made Coil a reality in  _this_  world, would it be the final step needed to guarantee security in his children's futures? Or would it destabilize their family, pull him from them, draw a divide between himself and his straight-laced wife?  
  
He recalled the last question Coil'd posed to Dinah, his  _pet_ , before he'd faced off against the Undersiders for the last time.  
  
_"Chances the world makes it through the apocalypse without me?"_  
  
"Three point four zero six eight percent."  
  
A full percent increase from when he'd been assured of his survival. A meaningful increase. A  _difference_.  
  
Calvert rose from his spot at the table, pacing about his kitchen instead. There was no guarantee that the world would survive anyway. It was a damning percentage of absolute destruction already, one man's death couldn't make so drastic a difference.  
  
The girl didn't lie though.  _Coil_  had made sure of that when he'd pumped her full of drugs.  
  
His gaze shifted, out the front window of his modest home. In the dim light of a streetlamp, he could see the ivy-covered gate into his yard. The more cynical side of him let out a soft snort. A white picket fence. He was living a fantasy, something most men only dreamed of in a world as grim as this.  
  
He had two loving children. A strong and passionate wife. An idyllic home with a perfect job.  
  
But also the opportunity to make a difference. Even if it was only a hundredth of a chance.  
  
Calvert wasn't Coil. They'd shared each other's thoughts, but the men were different on a fundamental level; a schism formed even before Thomas had downed that inky black vial years ago.  
  
Coil was a man of pragmatism, of calculations, of survival. He cast the dice and always found himself on the favoring side of fate. He ensured that he, and his, always ended up on top.  
  
Calvert was a man of honor.  
  
His mind made up, Thomas Calvert cast one last look at the toys in his living room. Then he collapsed the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to a prompt on reddit - Coil has a third alternative universe where he lives a casual life with his wife and kids. He wears a polo shirt, does volunteer work, and likes to spend his weekends cooking exotic dishes for the neighbors.


End file.
